


You Give Me Something

by linksofmemories



Series: The Rory to My Amy [10]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Explicit rating only for Sterek., F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-17
Updated: 2012-12-11
Packaged: 2017-11-18 22:21:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 14,219
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/565906
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/linksofmemories/pseuds/linksofmemories
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Seven chapters, seven couples, seven weddings.</p><p>You get the idea.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. John & Aria

**Author's Note:**

> The title is taken from James Morrison's song, ["You Give Me Something"](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UZp6dhheriM). I used this song because it's the song that Amy and Rory danced to at their wedding. (What other song would I use?) It's also a really great song.

“I can’t do this.”

“Sure you can.”

“Uh, no, I can’t.”

“Yes, you can.”

“Nope, nope, can’t do it.”

“You’re being ridiculous.”

“I’m not being ridiculous, I can’t do this.”

“You can and you will, now sit down and-.”

“I’m not going to sit down, because if I sit down I’ll have to stay and then I’ll have to-.”

“Aria Abigail Golding, if you do not sit down right now, I am going to…” Mrs. Golding said, pointing to the seat in front of the vanity table. “I am going to…”

“What, ground me?” Aria laughed, hands on her hips. “Mother, you’ve been incapable of grounding me for six years.”

“Well, it doesn’t mean I can’t try,” Mrs. Golding sighed. “Aria, please stop pacing and sit. It’s your wedding day and-.”

“I know,” Aria said, continuing to pace. “I’m getting married. I’m getting married to a man. I’m going to live in Beacon Hills for the rest of my life. When did this happen? I was supposed to travel around the world and be independent forever and go to France and paint and have sex with random strangers.”

Aria chose at this moment to sit down, looking at her reflection in the mirror. This was actually happening. The day that had been planned out for a year was finally happening. Last night she had been ecstatic and ready.

Now she was terrified and had forced all of her bridesmaids out of the dressing room so that she could panic alone. Of course her mother had stayed with her though, trying to force her to calm down.

“Sweetheart, it’s perfectly normal to be nervous,” Mrs. Golding said, wrapping her arms around her daughter’s shoulders. “I was nervous when I married your father. Especially when he told me that all of our children would be named after his ancestors.”

“Thank you for giving me the most normal name,” Aria said, leaning into her mother. “I would have died if you had picked Patriorah.”

“Your father really wanted that one.”

“I know.”

Mrs. Golding and Aria looked at each other before they both started to laugh. Aria’s father, Genim, was a very traditional man. He would have forced Aria’s mother, Denise, to have ten children, but Denise had put her foot down. Apparently Aria was such a handful that they only needed one child. Genim had 11 siblings anyway, so it wasn’t like the Golding line was going to run out anytime soon (or ever).

There was a knock on the door and Denise held up a finger to her daughter before going to open it. Aria looked back at the mirror. Her hair and make-up were already done (she had had to fight her mother on going for a natural look instead of getting a perm like her mother insisted, apparently those were trendy these days), but she was still wearing her dress slip and a robe over that. The ceremony started in 15 minutes and she wasn’t even dressed yet.

“John, there’s this thing called tradition,” Aria heard her mother say from the door. “You’re not allowed to see the bride before the wedding.”

“I just want to talk to her,” John said. “Five minutes, Mrs. Golding, that’s it.”

“I’m not even dressed yet, so it’s not like it’s cheating,” Aria piped in.

John peeked into the room and smiled at her. Aria smiled back and they were just smiling at each other when Denise huffed and opened the door completely.

“Five minutes,” she said, stepping out of the room. “And no looking at the dress.”

“No big loss there,” Aria said under her breath.

Mrs. Golding glared at her daughter before ushering John inside and closing the door behind her. Aria stood up and made her way toward John, wrapping her arms around him.

“Let’s just run,” she proposed. “Let’s go to New York or London or France or Spain or Japan or Australia or anywhere. I don’t care, let’s just go.”

“Our honeymoon is in Santa Barbara,” John said, pressing his forehead against hers.

“Not far enough,” she said.

“We can’t afford to go to any of those places, Ar.”

“Can we try?”

John gave her a small smile, leaning down to press his lips against hers. “Calm down. It’s okay to be nervous, I’m nervous.”

“I’m terrified,” she confessed, sitting back down.

He went down with her, kneeling in front of her and placing his hands on her thighs. “What’s so terrifying?”

“My dress is terrible,” she started. “Big puffy sleeves and this ugly lace and it’s weird and satiny. My mom saw it in Vogue and thought it was the most beautiful thing she’d ever seen. I had no input at all and I hate it.”

“It’s just a dress.”

“It’s The Dress,” Aria said. “It’s the most important piece of clothing I’ll ever wear in my entire life and I hate it.”

“Y’know a lot of girls can’t afford a fancy wedding dress,” John said. “Some can’t afford a dress at all.”

“Stop guilt-tripping me.”

“What else are you scared of?”

Aria sighed, leaning her head back and thinking. She felt like she was scared of so many things, but she really wasn’t scared of that much. Actually she was only scared of one thing. Well, two things if she counted being scared of telling John about the thing she was scared of.

“It’s stupid.”

“No, it’s not,” John said.

“Three minutes!” Denise shrieked from outside.

“I’m scared of…” Aria started, realizing that it was now or never. “I’m scared of letting you down.”

“What?” John asked, his eyebrows knitting in confusion. “What does that even mean?”

“It means that I’m going to let you down,” she said. “John, I’m not perfect. I’m not going to be the model wife that your parents want you to have. I’m independent and moody and I’m- I’m the sophomore girl who stood you up on the night of your senior prom.”

“I’m over that,” John said, chuckling. “Do you really think that I care about you standing me up almost eight years ago?”

“Well, there’s more,” Aria continued. “My first week back here after graduating from RISD, you arrested me.”

“That was revenge for the prom thing, we’re even.”

“Stop trying to make me laugh,” Aria said, smiling. “I flirted so hard to get out of you locking me up.”

“It worked.”

“I had to let you take me out to dinner.”

“It was win-win,” John shrugged.

“I might get tired of you.”

“I’ll make sure that won’t happen.”

“Our entire apartment is going to smell like paint.”

“I look forward to it.”

“I can’t cook.”

“I can.”

“Your parents hate me.”

“Too bad, because I love you.”

“I really hate the name ‘Stilinski’.”

“You don’t have to take it.”

“But my parents are so traditional, I’ll have to.”

“‘Aria Stilinski’ has a great ring to it.”

“I can’t have children.”

“You don’t know that.”

“The doctor said that there is a one in a million chance, John.”

“That’s better than no chance at all.”

“If we do have a baby, he or she will have to have a family name.”

“That’s what nicknames are for.”

“If I do get pregnant – and that is a _huge_ if – I don’t know what I’ll do. I would be the worst mother.”

“No you wouldn’t” John said, cupping her face in his hands. “If by some miracle God gives us a child, you are going to be the best mother in the world.”

“I don’t believe in God.”

“Then what do you believe in?”

“You.”

John gave off some kind of half-laugh, shaking his head at her.

“What?” she asked.

“I thought you were going to say that you didn’t believe in anything.”

“If I were in denial I probably would have said that.”

“Okay!” Denise shouted, opening the door to the room. “It has been over five minutes and Aria needs to get dressed.”

Aria’s bridesmaids came filing back into the room, all giving Aria nervous smiles before flocking toward mirrors. They were mostly her cousins and girls she had gone to high school with. None of her friends from college could afford the plane ticket to California.

“I’ll walk John to the door,” Aria said, taking his hand and standing up.

Denise looked like she was about to argue, but sighed before letting it go. Aria and John walked to the door of the dressing room and he kissed her one more time.

“Still scared?”

“More nervous.”

“Good,” he said, kissing her forehead. “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

He smiled at her and waved to Denise before heading out of the room, closing the door behind him. Her mother started yelling at her to get dressed, but for that moment she just tuned her out.

Everything would be fine. She was marrying John and they would maybe start a family and they would live to be very old and very happy.


	2. James & Melissa

If you had asked Melissa what she had envisioned her marriage being when she was younger, this was probably the farthest from her vision. When she was a little girl she wanted to get married on a beach or in a garden or under a waterfall. Now she was in a tiny church in a tiny Sunday school room sitting in a corner in a tiny chair and six months pregnant.

Yeah, this had definitely not been a part of the plan.

She felt stupid. And of course she felt stupid. She was 17 and about to start her senior year of high school. She should be worrying about applying for colleges and picking out the perfect prom dress. Instead she was worried about a baby and a husband and a life that she didn’t want. And she was also applying for college and she wanted to go to prom.

It was like everything was doubled or tripled and she was beyond terrified.

James was great. He was so sweet and so helpful and she knew he wouldn’t run away. They would raise their son together and go to college and work for their careers. It was going to be beyond difficult, but they could do it. As long as James was by her side she could do anything.

There was a knock on the door and Melissa stood up. It was probably her mom or dad worrying about her.

“Come in,” she said, standing up.

“Hey you,” James said, smiling and coming into the room.

“James, you’re not supposed to be in here,” Melissa said, folding her arms across her chest in a terrible effort to hide her dress from him.

She was wearing her mother’s wedding dress. It was lacey with pearls and it was ridiculously old-fashioned, but she kind of loved it. It was far better than the dresses she saw in Vogue with the puffy sleeves and satiny material. She didn’t care if they were in style; they were still hideous to her.

“I just want to say good luck,” James said, taking her hands in his. “To you and to our son. And I’ve actually been thinking of a name.”

“We already agreed on your name for his middle name,” Melissa said, sitting down and placing a hand on her stomach.

“I know,” he said, squeezing onto the seat next to her. “I was thinking and I found a name that I really like.”

“And that is?”

“Derek.”

“Derek,” Melissa repeated, trying to get used to the name. “Derek James McHale.”

“Nice, huh?” James said. “With our good looks combined he’s going to be one hell of a lady’s man, so he better have the name for it.”

“A lady’s man?” Melissa said, quirking an eyebrow. “I think he’ll be more of a committed relationship man.”

James shook his head, placing a hand on Melissa’s stomach. “Don’t listen to her, Derek. If you listen to her you’ll find your soul mate when you’re 15 and never care about anyone else. You’ll be tied down for the rest of your life.”

“You found your soul mate when you were 15,” Melissa pointed out, nudging him with her elbow.

“And I am extremely grateful for that,” he said, leaning in for a kiss. “I’ll see you out there.”

“Okay,” Melissa said.

He was standing up when she saw it. There was a red mark on the side of his neck and she knew that she wasn’t the one who put it there. It was well hidden though and she only saw it because of the angle she was looking at.

This wasn’t exactly a surprise. James had always been flirtatious with other girls and a few had gotten a bit hands-y. If this was any other day she would have called him out on it. If she was in any other condition she would have demanded answers.

But it was their wedding day and she was pregnant with their son, their little Derek. Being married was going to change everything and so was this baby. Melissa knew that as soon as their son was brought into the world James would put all of his old ways behind him and be a man for their family.

They were going to raise Derek together and probably have more children. There would be sports games and first days of schools and first dates and school dances and prom and graduation and weddings and grandchildren.

There was another knock on the door and this time it opened without Melissa saying anything. Her father was standing at the door and he smiled at her.

“You look beautiful,” he said.

“I look pregnant.”

“Well, that too.”

Melissa laughed and shook her head, standing up and making her way toward her father.

“Everyone’s lining up,” he said, linking his arm in hers. “It’s almost time for you to make your grand entrance.”

She rolled her eyes at that, but her father laughed good-heartedly, leading her toward the cluster of bridesmaids and groomsmen.

“There she is!” Lola, her Maid of Honor and best friend, said. “You look so gorgeous, Mels.”

“Thanks,” Melissa said, taking her place at the back of the line with her father.

Music started to play and the flower girl, James’ second cousin, started to walk down the aisle.

“Nervous?” Lola asked.

“A bit,” Melissa shrugged. “I’m kind of just ready for it to be over. Is that weird?”

“Not at all,” her father said. “I couldn’t wait for my wedding to be over either.”

Lola laughed at that before quickly throwing her arms around Melissa. “Everything is going to be awesome. You and James are perfect and I’m going to babysit your son every single day that you need a break.”

“I don’t think I can trust you with him so early on,” Melissa said.

“Oh please, of course you can,” Lola said, pulling away before relinking her arm with the Best Man. “Good luck!”

Lola then started to walk down the aisle in front of her and Melissa tried really hard to not think about how she had smelled like James’ cologne.

It didn’t matter. She was making the right choice. Marrying James and raising their baby together was the right thing to do. And everything would be fine over time. Everything was going to work out.


	3. Chris & Laura

“I think I’m actually ready for this.”

“Seriously?”

“Yeah, yeah I am good.”

“You’re sure?”

“Positive.”

“Then why do you keep looking toward the door?”

“I’m just really excited to be walking out of it.”

“Walking or running?”

“You know what, Derek? No one likes you.”

“I think a few people might argue with you on that.”

“Oh really, like who?”

“Well, there’s you for starters.”

Laura glared at Derek who was leaning against the opposite wall from her, arms crossed over his chest and looking stupidly handsome in a suit that she had forced him into. He had this little smug smile on his face and she was more than tempted to smack it right off.

She refrained though. This was her wedding day and the last thing that needed to happen was the bride slapping her Man of Honor before the ceremony.

“I’m ready,” she said, turning around in her chair to look back in the mirror. “I’m not nervous. Well, I have butterflies, but who doesn’t on their wedding day?”

“You look like you’re about to throw up,” Derek said, walking up behind her and placing his hands on her shoulders.

“I don’t feel that way,” she shrugged, picking up her mother’s earrings that had been placed carefully on the vanity table. “I feel… ready. Chris and I already have a child together, so getting married should be easy.”

“If you say so,” Derek said, leaning down to press his chin on one of her shoulders. “You look beautiful.”

“Thank you,” she said, smiling and then patting his cheek. “And we look like twins.”

“We’ve always looked like twins.”

“I know, but the formal attire is really bringing it out now,” Laura said, squinting at their reflections. “You’re tanner though.”

Derek rolled his eyes before standing up straight and looking around the room. Laura continued to put on her mother’s earrings, watching Derek from the corner of her eye. He had just moved back from New York and tomorrow he and Stiles were leaving to look at apartments in Palo Alto.

And she was happy, for both of them. Sure she would miss them like crazy, but Derek and Stiles needed to get away from everything. They needed to start getting to know each other as adults and not childhood friends.

But the relationship of her best friend and his boyfriend shouldn’t even be on her mind. She was getting married to the love of her life in half an hour and she wasn’t even freaking out. Everyone that she had known had freaked out before getting married. Planning it had been easy since the ceremony was going to be ridiculously small and private. She hadn’t had a meltdown in a bridal store and everything was going smoothly.

Too smoothly.

She was starting to feel a bit skeptical. Maybe Gerard and Kate were planning on humiliating her at the altar. They had already done that once at the first dinner Laura had had with the Argent family. Chris and Allison had come to her rescue, but they had still said things to her that she wasn’t going to forget anytime soon.

There was a knock on the door of the room and Laura turned in that direction, watching as Derek went to answer it.

“Hey,” Stiles greeted, carrying a pink bundle in his arms. “I figured that Pond might want to wish her mom good luck.”

“Oh, give her here,” Laura said, turning in her chair and outstretching her arms.

Stiles handed Amelia over to her and Laura looked down at her daughter. She was almost seven weeks-old, but still the most perfect thing she had ever seen. Chris was in love with her and so was Allison. Gerard and Kate looked at her with pinched expressions and Scott looked vaguely mortified by the baby. Melissa and John were both pros at parenting and were always up for giving tips and advice.

Derek and Stiles were the two wild cards. Stiles absolutely adored her and had already given her a nickname and signed himself up for babysitting whenever he was home on weekends from Stanford. All during his winter break he wanted to be close to the baby girl, talking to her and telling her stories about a Girl Who Waited and a Roman Centurion and a Mad Man with a Blue Box (Laura always rolled her eyes when those stories started). He even volunteered for diaper changing.

Amelia’s godfather was less enthusiastic. Laura didn’t regret her decision to make Derek the godfather, she was just waiting for him to fully step into the role. He babysat her and took care of her when he needed to, but he never went the extra mile. There were sometimes though when she saw him holding her in his arms and just smiling at her or looking at her like he didn’t quite understand. It was those moments when she realized that she had made the right choice.

“My parents got married at this church,” Stiles said.

Laura looked up from Amelia to see Stiles standing in front of her.

“Mine too,” Laura shared. “I feel like everyone in Beacon Hills gets married here.”

“Well, it’s a small town and this is the only church.”

“Good point,” Laura said, standing up and then handing Amelia back to Stiles. “She’s under your care, Stilinski.”

“I’ll take good care of her,” Stiles nodded, taking Amelia and smiling at her. “Come along, Pond, we’ve got to go get a good seat in the front row. Preferably away from Creepy Uncle Peter who looks like he’s about to murder your daddy every time he sees him.”

Derek walked Stiles to the door, grabbing his face and kissing him long and slow. In fact it was so long and slow that Laura didn’t know if she should throw up or look away. She was mostly just worried for Amelia who was stuck in between the tongue war.

Thankfully the door opened again and Derek and Stiles stepped apart, looking to see Chris in the doorframe.

“In front of my daughter and my fiancée?” Chris asked, stepping into the room. “Is that really necessary?”

“No,” Stiles said.

“Rhetorical question,” Chris said, glaring at Stiles before looking down fondly at Amelia. “Stilinski, if anything happens to my daughter, I will kill you.”

“For some reason I don’t doubt that,” Stiles said.

“You shouldn’t,” Chris snapped. “Now, I would really love some alone time with Laura.”

Stiles was the first one out of the door, smiling as he went. Derek was right behind him, giving her a wave and a nod of what she hoped was encouragement.

“Are you nervous?” Chris asked, sitting down in the chair in front of the vanity table before grabbing her hand and pulling her onto his lap.

“A bit,” she admitted. “But I’m mostly just ready.”

“I feel the same,” Chris said. “I’ve done the Big White Wedding thing and that wasn’t for me. This is better, I like that it’s small.”

“Yeah,” Laura said, looking at her hands.

“And I also like that it’s with you,” Chris said, squeezing one of her hands in his. “Victoria and I had an arranged marriage. This is something that I chose for myself. I chose to have a relationship with you and I’m so lucky that you chose to have one with me as well.”

Laura smiled at his words, wrapping her arms around his shoulders. She really loved him. And she didn’t know if it would ever stop feeling weird. She had never thought that she would get married, the only constant man in her life other than Peter was Derek and sometimes she had to remind herself that they actually weren’t related.

Here she was though, getting married to a man 14 years her senior who had already been married once and had a daughter without her and now with her. He was gorgeous and successful and everything that her mother had told her not to look for in a man. Her mother had said to go for someone her own age with a humble background and a kind family.

Chris Argent was the exact opposite of that.

But he made her happy, truly and undeniably happy. And there was no way she was ever going to let that go.

“I should probably head out there,” Chris said.

“Probably,” Laura nodded.

Neither of them made a move.

“I love you,” he said.

“I love you too,” she said, smiling and pressing her lips to his.

“I should really leave,” he mumbled against her mouth.

“Or you could just stay in here for another ten minutes,” Laura proposed.

“And do what?”

“I don’t know. I’m sure we’ll figure something out though. There’s a lot of things we can do in ten minutes.”


	4. Scott & Allison

He was going to pass out. Yep, definitely going to pass out. And it wasn’t helping that Stiles, Derek, and Isaac all looked at him like he was an idiot and kept telling him that he wasn’t going to pass out. But none of them were married and none of them were about to get married, so what did they know?

“Dude, you look like you’re going to throw up,” Stiles said.

“I might,” Scott said, placing his face in his hands. “It doesn’t help that it’s like 90 degrees in this room.”

“It’s not that hot,” Isaac said.

Scott glared, Isaac shrugged.

“Scott, you’re going to be fine,” Derek said, patting him on the back. “You’re marrying Allison and you’re the one who asked her, so don’t back out-.”

“I’m not backing out.”

“Then stop acting like you’re going to get sick. It’s going to be fine.”

“You know what, Derek?” Scott said. “I don’t think that you can really talk because you haven’t been in my position before.”

“Yeah, but I know that you have nothing to worry about,” he said, wrapping his arm around his shoulders. “Just stop freaking out.”

Okay, that made sense. He should stop freaking out because this was Allison. And Allison was beautiful and smart and kind and strong and wonderful and…

“She closes the door when she uses the bathroom.”

Derek instantly took his arm from Scott’s shoulders, Isaac looked confused, and Stiles looked at him like he was an idiot.

“What?” Stiles asked.

“She doesn’t let me in the bathroom when she’s on the toilet,” Scott said. “The other day I was running late for work and I needed to brush my teeth and she wouldn’t let me in. And she always closes the door.”

“Jesus Christ, Scott,” Derek said under his breath, shaking his head.

“What? It’s nothing I haven’t seen before!”

“I don’t know if I’m more worried that you leave the door open when you take a dump or that you want Allison  to leave it open,” Stiles said.

“What’s so wrong with that?” Scott asked, looking at all of them. “She’s going to be my wife in less than an hour. We need to accept all parts of each other.”

“Uh, well that’s nice, Scott,” Isaac said slowly. “But I’m pretty sure she just doesn’t want you to see that. I don’t even know why you would _want_ to see that.”

“Well, I don’t really, but-.”

“Scott,” Derek said, placing a firm hand on his shoulder. “I’m just going to explain this in the simplest terms that I possibly can. I love Stiles-.”

“Oh, here we go,” Scott groaned, trying to ignore Stiles smiling like an idiot when Derek said that.

“I love Stiles,” Derek repeated. “But seeing him take a dump or a leak is something that I never want to see and something that he doesn’t want me to see. It has nothing to do with having seen everything before, because I’ve seen everything… several, _several_ times-.”

“I hate you so much,” Scott said.

“But no amount of love or time or intimacy will ever make me want to see that,” Derek continued. “Because the last thing I want is to see something coming out of where I put my dick and my mouth-.”

“Oh God, you are such an asshole!” Scott yelled, getting away from Derek as quickly as possible.

Of course Isaac and Stiles were laughing, both shaking their heads as Scott made his way toward the door.

“I hate all of you,” he said. “I’m going to see Allison and pretend that this conversation never happened.”

“Lydia’s not going to let you in there!” Stiles shouted as Scott slipped out of the room.

“I’m still gonna try!”

Fucking Derek. Scott didn’t care that he was with Stiles, hell he was _happy_ for them, but he didn’t need it dangled in front of his face. They loved each other. Great. They trusted each other. Great. They were probably going to be together for the rest of their lives. Great. They had sex. Well, great, but Scott didn’t want to know about it.

That really should be the least of his worries though. He had already had the “Do I really want to spend the rest of my life with this person?” freak-out. That had lasted all of two seconds, because he was marrying Allison and who else would he spend the rest of his life with?

Allison was his everything and he cherished every second he had with her. They had had their rough patches, sure, but what couple hadn’t? Derek and Stiles had had several rough patches and they were still clinging to each other every second they got. And Scott really didn’t like or know why he was comparing his love life to Stiles and Derek’s.

But, Allison was perfect and he knew he was lucky to have her. Which was why he was walking through the halls of the Monte Verde Inn to the Bride’s room. Lydia would probably fight him as soon as he tried to come in, but he could fight her back. It was only bad luck if Allison was in her dress, right?

When he reached the room he knocked on the door and waited for it to open. And he tried really hard not to sigh in relief when Erica opened it instead of Lydia.

“Scott, what are you doing here?” she asked, coming into the hallway and closing the door behind her. “You’re not allowed to see Allison.”

“Oh, I know,” he nodded. “Uh, Boyd was looking for you.”

“How would you know that?”

“He texted Isaac about it.”

“Why would Vernon text Isaac and not me?”

“Because you weren’t answering your phone?”

“I just checked my phone two minutes ago and I didn’t have any missed calls or new messages.”

Damn, she was good.

“I just really want to see her,” Scott cracked, placing his hands on Erica’s shoulders. “Please oh please oh please oh please-.”

“Okay, shut up,” Erica said, covering his mouth with one of her hands. “I’m going to have to consult with Lydia on this.”

Before Scott could even protest, Erica was slipping back into the room. He folded his arms across his chest, waiting for Lydia. Actually waiting for Lydia was probably a bad idea since she was likely to come out there with a hair curler or something and clamp it on his hand. He definitely wouldn’t put it past her.

The door to the room opened once more and out filed Erica, Laura, and finally Lydia.

“You’ve got five minutes, buster,” Lydia said, poking his chest. “And I’m only allowing you in there because she’s not dressed yet and Allison really wants to see you too.”

“She wants to see me?”

“No,” Lydia said, shaking her head.

There was a pause of Scott feeling uncertain.

“Yes, of course she wants to see you!” Lydia said, slapping his arm. “Five minutes, McHale. _Five minutes._ ”

“Got it,” Scott saluted, rushing into the room before Lydia could change her mind.

He closed the door behind him and turned around to see… The most beautiful sight in the world. Allison was sitting on an armchair in the middle of the (much bigger than his and nicely decorated) room. She was wearing a robe and her hair was in waves and she looked nervous but excited and so beautiful.

“Hi,” Scott said finally, smiling at her.

“Hi,” she said, smiling back.

Scott made his way over to her, sitting down on the arm of the chair and taking her hand in his. “You look beautiful.”

“You look handsome.”

“Probably nothing compared to you.”

Allison rolled her eyes, intertwining their fingers and pressing their hands to her lips. “Lydia said that you wanted to talk to me.”

“Yeah,” he nodded.

He couldn’t even remember why he wanted to talk to her. Why was he even over here? He could totally wait to see her at the end of that aisle. All he remembered was Derek being an ass and Stiles and Isaac laughing and something about pooping with the door open.

“What do you want to talk about?” she asked.

“Why don’t you poop with the door open?”

Dammit.

“Wait, that’s not what I mean to say!” he said, holding his free hand up. “It’s just that I was talking about it with the guys and then Derek started talking about not wanting to see Stiles taking dumps because that’s where he puts his dick.”

Okay, that definitely wasn’t what he had meant to say.

“All right,” Allison said, nodding slowly. “That makes sense though, I always pictured that Stiles would be the bottom.”

“You’ve pictured it?”

“You know what I mean,” Allison said, shaking her head. “Putting that aside though, it sounds like you’re freaking out.”

“I’m not.”

“Scott, sweetie,” Allison said, squeezing his hand. “Are you unsure? Do you think that we’re too young? That we’re rushing things? We kind of are, I’m only 20 and you’re 19 and-.”

“No,” Scott said quickly. “Do you think that we’re rushing?”

“No,” Allison said.

“Good, because whenever I think about getting married, you’re the only person I can imagine meeting me at the end of the aisle,” Scott said. “I mean, if you’ve already met the person you’re going to spend forever with, why wait?”

Of course Lydia chose that moment it burst into the room. “Time’s up McHale! Get out!”

“Yes ma’am,” Scott nodded, leaning down to press his lips against Allison’s. “I’ll see you out there.”

“I’ll be the one in the white dress,” she said, smiling that gorgeous smile. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” Scott said before getting shoved out of the room by Lydia.

Yeah, things were going to be great.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Monte Verde Inn is actually a real (and extremely beautiful) place!](http://www.monteverdeinn.net/)


	5. Jackson & Lydia

“It is my wedding day, Stiles, I have a right to freak out.”

“And I’m not denying that, I just think that you’re overreacting-.”

“Wrong choice of word, buddy.”

“What? She is overreac-.”

“ _Overreacting_? You think that I’m _overreacting_?!”

“Um, no?”

“Stiles, sweetie, I just got a call saying that the roses I ordered aren’t going to be red like I want. They’re pink. Pink! Which ruins the color scheme, clashes with the rest of my bouquet, and it’s a fall wedding. What kind of lunatic uses pink roses for a fall wedding?”

“Don’t answer that.”

“Uh, pink enthusiasts?”

“Really shouldn’t have answered that.”

Lydia shrieked, grabbing the front of Stiles’ dress shirt and bringing him down to her level. “Stilinski, you are so completely incompetent when it comes to things of this nature, why did I call you in?”

“Because you said that you wanted the gays to help you,” Danny sighed, grabbing Stiles’ shoulder and pulling him away from Lydia’s death grip.

Oh. Right. She had said that, hadn’t she? Which was ridiculous because Danny was supposed to be with Jackson and Derek probably dressed Stiles since his taste in clothes were less than acceptable. What could he possibly know about color coordination?

But Stiles was always good to talk to.

“I would like to talk to Stiles alone,” she said, sitting down on one of the plush couches in the room.

“All right,” Danny shrugged. “I’ll be with Jackson.”

“What, no,” Stiles said, looking at Danny. “Don’t leave me alone with Crazy.”

Danny just chuckled before exiting the room and closing the door firmly behind him. Lydia watched as Stiles stood in the middle of the room, avoiding her completely.

“Stiles, sit down.”

“I’m not a dog.”

“ _Sit down_.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Stiles said quickly, sitting on the cushion next to her. “So, you need red roses. Uh, I don’t know any flower shops around here, but I can look up a num-.”

“Am I making a mistake?”

“By wanting the flowers to be red, no, I don’t-.”

“Shut up, you know what I mean,” she said, shaking her head and grabbing one of his hands. “Do you think that Jackson is a mistake?”

“Yes.”

Lydia sat up a bit straighter at that. Stiles was always one to beat around the bush, but now he was actually being straightforward. And of course he would be telling her this less than an hour before the ceremony.

“Why?” she asked.

“Because he’s Jackson,” Stiles shrugged. “He’s Jackson and you’re Lydia. He’s an asshole and you’re kind of a bitch.”

“I’m going to slap you in the next ten seconds if you can’t make this into a decent argument.”

“Noted,” Stiles nodded. “It’s just that in high school everyone said that you two were made for each other. You’re both popular and good-looking and have this way about you that makes everyone feel like they’re not good enough. You guys broke up and got back together more times than I can even remember. Honestly, in most cases this wouldn’t look like a successful marriage.

“But for some reason that is completely beyond me, you two are kind of perfect. He went to a university in Boston for you even though he had gotten a ton of lacrosse scholarships in California. He loves you Lydia and I know that you love him too. So, Jackson himself is a mistake, but you two together isn’t.”

It was one of those moments in life where she liked to imagine what could have been. What if she had dated the nerdy, spastic kid who told her that he loved her at least once a week? What if she had given Stiles a chance?

“Sometimes I wish I had said yes to a date with you,” she said.

“I would’ve said no.”

“You did,” she said. “Ice skating. You wanted to watch _Doctor Who_ with Derek instead.”

Stiles looked at her blankly for a second and she was ready to tell him to forget it when he started to laughing, shaking his head. “I remember that. I paid Boyd for those keys anyway, just to get Scott of my back.”

“It’s funny though,” Lydia mused. “As soon as you said no, I couldn’t help but wonder why. It irritated the hell out of me.”

“What?” he asked. “That I wasn’t following you around like a lovesick puppy anymore?”

“It was a good act, I’ll give you that,” she said. “You were so obsessive in the third grade and then fourth grade came and you weren’t as obsessive.”

“Seriously?” he asked. “You noticed the difference?”

“Of course.”

He just smiled and who would have thought that out of all of them, Stiles would end up being the most beautiful. His unawareness was probably one of his most attractive qualities, even though she was sure that Derek probably reminded him of how amazing he was every day. She saw the way those two idiots looked at each other, like they were the only people in the universe, the only ones that mattered. Sometimes she wondered if that was how she looked at Jackson. Probably not.

“Thanks for coming all this way for just one weekend,” she said. “I know that you’re busy with school.”

“No big deal,” he shrugged. “I’ve never been to Boston before, so Derek and I are probably going sightseeing tomorrow.”

“Fun.”

“Yeah, it’ll be nice,” he said. “I just can’t believe that you’re going right back to classes on Monday. Don’t you want a honeymoon?”

“Of course,” she said. “I also want a fall wedding. We’re going to Venice for all of winter break.”

“Nice.”

“Yeah, it’ll be fun.”

They grinned at each other and Lydia leaned forward, wrapping her arms around him. “We need to talk more.”

“I know,” he said, folding his arms across her back. “You could always visit Palo Alto.”

“You could always visit Boston,” she shot back.

“Why did we have to pick colleges on opposite ends of the countries?”

“We’re extremely smart individuals.”

“That’s very true.”

There was a knock on the door and Lydia unwound her arms from Stiles. It was probably her mother and Allison coming to check on her. Why had they left again? Oh, right, she had been upset about the roses.

“Come in!” she said.

The door opened and there stood Jackson. And of course Stiles instantly shielded her from sight.

“Dude, not supposed to see the bride before the wedding,” Stiles said.

“Is she in her dress?”

“Uh, no.”

“Then it doesn’t count,” Jackson said, stepping toward them. “Get out, Stilinski.”

Stiles looked over his shoulder at her and she rolled her eyes before nodding. If she and Jackson had made it through almost ten breakups and fights, then some old superstition wasn’t going to hurt anything. Besides, Scott had seen Allison before their wedding last year and they were fine.

“Okay, fine,” Stiles said, standing up from the couch and walking toward the door. “No funny business.”

Lydia didn’t even want to know what counted as “funny business”. She gave a small wave to Stiles who nodded in return before slipping out of the door, leaving it cracked open.

“He’s still insane,” Jackson said, sitting down next to her.

“He’s fine,” she shrugged. “Still just Stiles.”

“Right,” he said. “So, I heard that there’s a flower problem?”

“You heard right.”

“You seem pretty calm about it.”

“Well, Stiles helped,” she said. “Not technically. He said some things and made me feel better, but I’m positive that the roses are still pink.”

“Do you want me to call someone?”

“Oh definitely,” she nodded. “There’s no way I’m going to have pink roses.”

“Of course,” Jackson said, taking his phone from his pocket. “I’ll text Allison. She can figure this out.”

“Good,” Lydia said. “If you left it to my mother she’d end up screaming at the florist instead of actually getting the right flowers.”

“True.”

There was a pause as Jackson tapped on his phone and she sat next to him, arms crossed over her chest. He sent the message and then leaned forward away from the couch, nodding at her. “So, I guess I’ll let you finish getting ready.”

“Or you could stay,” she proposed.

“I’m sure that you have a lot of things to take care of,” he said, leaning toward her and kissing her quickly. “I’ll see you out there.”

“Of course,” she said. “Can you tell my mom to come back in and Stiles, if he’s still out there?”

“Sure.”

Jackson nodded at her and she smiled back and then he was heading toward the door. “I love you.”

He turned around at that, nodding once more. “You too.”

The door closed behind him and she sighed, pressing herself against the couch. This was supposed to be the happiest day of her life and for some reason it didn’t feel like it. Maybe it was the roses.

It was definitely the roses.


	6. Boyd & Erica

It was loud and crowded and Stiles was sitting down next to him and wrapping an arm around his shoulders and handing him a shot glass and this was a very bad idea.

“I’m not going to take a shot before my wedding,” Boyd said, taking the glass from Stiles anyway who was now filling it with whiskey.

“Yeah, but I think that your brothers are going to make fun of you if you don’t,” Stiles said, looking toward the rest of the Boyd family and smiling.

“Erica would kill me if she knew.”

“But she doesn’t know.”

“She could find out.”

“She won’t.”

“She could.”

“Take the shot.”

“No.”

“Take the shot.”

“Stiles, I’m not going to take the shot.”

Stiles stared up at him before looking at the shot, shrugging, and then throwing it back. Boyd should have stopped him (the last thing he wanted was to have one of his groomsmen wasted), but he just shook his head.

“If you puke, Erica will kill you,” Boyd laughed, taking the glass from Stiles and placing it on the coffee table in front of them.

“I don’t doubt that,” Stiles said. “But I’m willing to take my chances.”

“I can tell,” Isaac said, sitting on Boyd’s other side on the couch. “Are you nervous?”

“No,” Boyd said, shaking his head. “I’m just ready to marry her.”

“Well that’s the spirit!” Stiles said, slapping him on the shoulder. “Congratulations, man.”

“Thanks.”

The three sat in companionable silence, all watching Boyd’s various cousins and siblings talking amongst themselves and passing around bottles. He should probably get up and stop them, but it seemed that none of them were trying to get drunk. It was mostly just a little sip with most of them, so he wasn’t concerned.

“So, when’s it going to be your turn?” Boyd asked, choosing not to direct the question at one of them specifically.

“I don’t even know.” “Never.”

“What?” Boyd and Stiles said in unison, turning to look at Isaac.

“Danny doesn’t believe in marriage,” Isaac said, his face turning red as he shrugged.

“How can he not believe in marriage?” Stiles asked. “It exists!”

“You know that’s not what I mean, Stiles,” Isaac said, leaning back against the couch. “He just doesn’t think that getting married means anything. He doesn’t see why we have to put our love down on paper, especially when it’s still illegal for gay couples to get married in a lot of states.”

“Well that’s awfully political of him,” Stiles said. “Derek’s the same though. He doesn’t get what the big deal is.”

“You two should consider yourselves lucky,” Boyd sighed. “Planning a wedding is awful, especially these past few weeks. Erica has been stressing every day and then I’ve been stressing and-.”

“Yeah, but you’re still getting married,” Stiles cut in. “I would love to stress out every day and freak out about getting married, but Derek doesn’t want to get married. So, I’m never going to get to freak out over this stuff. And I don’t even care about all of this stuff. We could get married in a county official’s office for all I care, I just want to marry him and- and… shit, man. I’m ruining your wedding day by rambling about not getting to have my own. I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine,” Boyd said, patting him on the shoulder. “I shouldn’t complain when you don’t even-.”

There were a few quick knocks on the door and then it just burst open. Everyone stopped what they were doing and turned to see Allison standing there, looking around the room before locking on to Boyd.

“She needs you,” she said quickly. “Like, right now, she is freaking out and I don’t even know where her medicine-.”

He didn’t let her finish. Boyd got up from the couch and bolted out of the room, pushing past Allison and every person he encountered in the hallway. He didn’t even know where the bride’s room was supposed to be, but Allison was apparently running behind him. He vaguely heard her shouting directions at him and with one more right turn he was standing in a hallway filled with bridesmaids and nervous relatives.

“Where is she?” Boyd asked, placing a hand on Erica’s mother’s shoulder. “Is she okay? Is it a seizure? Has anyone called an ambulance or-?”

“She locked herself in the room and it sounds like she’s panicking,” Mrs. Reyes said, looking at Boyd with thinly veiled disgust (no surprise there, Mrs. Reyes despised him). “She’s not going to let anyone in there but you.”

Boyd didn’t say anything else, approaching the door and lightly rapping his fist against it. “Erica? Baby, you okay?”

The crowd of women standing behind him were all clustered together, holding their breaths. He didn’t understand why one of them hadn’t tried to break the door down or gotten someone to do it for them. If Erica was hurt then there was no way he would forgive them.

“Vernon?”

His sigh of relief was echoed by all of them. “Yeah, it’s me. Wanna let me in?”

The doorknob twisted and the door slowly opened. He slipped inside and closed it behind him and then turned around and well, wow.

She was already in her dress with her hair in perfect golden waves and just, wow. He really didn’t have any other way of expressing that.

“Wow,” he said, walking toward where she was sitting on the couch. “You look amazing.”

“And like I’ve been freaking out,” Erica said, pulling her knees up to her chest. “My mother is probably about to march in here and take me away.”

“I’d like to see her try,” Boyd said, sitting down next to her and wrapping an arm around her shoulders. “Are you okay? Do you need your medicine?”

“I took it a few minutes ago,” she said. “It was more of a panic attack than a seizure.”

“That’s still pretty serious,” he said. “Are you sure that you’re-.”

“I’m freaking out.”

“Why are you freaking out?”

“Because we’re getting married in less than an hour and six months ago it seemed like today would never get here but it’s here! It’s almost here and… and I don’t know how to breathe all of the sudden.”

Boyd took her hands in his at that. “Hey. Shh. Look at me, okay? Right here, right in the eyes. Let me tell you something. When we’re up there in a few minutes, after you’ve knocked everyone out in the audience with how beautiful you’re gonna look, it’s just going to be me and you. You and me. Just us. You don’t have to look at anyone else. You just look at me, and tell me why you love me, and throw in an ‘I do’ and we’re done. We’re married. And then it’s non-stop partying and making fun of all the drunks until i’m carrying you into a hotel suite where we’ll have wonderful, gratuitous sex for seven hours straight, okay?”

Erica let out a soft laugh at that. “Well, when you put it that way…”

“It doesn’t sound so bad?” he prompted.

“No, it doesn’t sound bad at all.”

He smiled, leaning forward to press his lips against hers. “I love you.”

“I love you too.”


	7. Derek & Stiles

 

“God, you’re gorgeous.”

“Oh shut up.”

“No, I’m serious. You look gorgeous.”

“You’ve seen me in a suit like twenty times, I’m not anymore gorgeous than I was-.”

“But you are.”

“That makes no sense.”

“Sure it does.”

“No it doesn’t. Sure this is a new suit, but- _Jesus Christ, Derek; you are not feeling me up in the middle of Central Park_!”

But Derek _was_ feeling him up in the middle of Central Park on a Wednesday afternoon in plain sight. Several people were looking at them now, all either giggling or whistling or _taking pictures_ , _really_? New York was such a weird place, it was so crowded and open and no one seemed to care about anyone else and he really hated seeing what Derek liked about it. Because even though this was the place that Derek had gone to to get away from him, it was still a place that Derek loved.

All Derek talked about sometimes was New York, saying how much Stiles would like it, how there was so much he wanted to show him. And Stiles believed him. Because New York was kind of incredible and there was a lot to see. It just felt weird getting married in a place that he had always seen in a negative light.

And, fuck, he was getting married, wasn’t he? He was getting married extremely soon. Stiles’ eyes went over to the small cluster of well-dressed people a ways away. It was just close family and friends, just how they wanted. Because neither of them wanted to plan a wedding in a church with a big reception. They didn’t want to hire a caterer or let Lydia plan out the color scheme. They just wanted it in the park with friends and family and Stiles could have gotten married in a t-shirt and shorts and he wouldn’t care.

Of course Lydia would have killed him if he had gotten married in a t-shirt and shorts.

“Nervous?” Derek, who was still feeling him up, asked.

“No,” Stiles said, bringing his attention back to the man in front of him. “Not at all.”

“Me neither,” Derek said, placing his hands on the sides of Stiles’ neck and pulling him forward for a kiss.

It was slow and long and Derek was pressing his back against a tree and he was clutching Derek’s suit jacket and trying to get him closer and God, he was actually getting this. He was actually getting Derek forever and that was just insane. Everything about that was insane.

“Ready?” Derek asked once they had parted.

“Definitely.”

“Good.”

Derek smiled that stupidly handsome smile and took Stiles’ hand in his as they started walking toward the small group of people. Scott was the first one to spot them.

“It took you two long enough!” he said. “Allison and I want to take the boys to see the Statue of Liberty and-.”

“Scott!” Allison said, swatting his arm. “It’s their wedding day. And we’re staying for the reception.”

“There’s not a reception,” Stiles said. “We’re getting married and then you guys can leave.”

“Uh, no they can’t,” Lydia said, popping into their conversation. “There is a reception. I planned one and you’re all staying for at least two hours.”

“Lydia, we don’t want a reception,” Derek said. “When we said ‘small’, we meant _small_.”

Lydia rolled her eyes at that. Stiles should have known better than to leave everything that they had planned up to Lydia. There hadn’t even been that much to plan. Her job was to make sure to call everyone and get everyone on the same flight to New York, get an officiator for the ceremony (if you could even call it that), and then let her pick out their suits (which both Stiles and Derek were reluctant about, but she had cornered them with the help of Laura and there was no way to say no to that combination).

A reception had never been in the plan. Actually it had been something that they had both been against, because they didn’t want to rent out a room for a few hours to open gifts (that they hadn’t asked for, but Stiles had seen the extra suitcase that Lydia had forced on Jackson) and eat and drink and have people talk about what a great couple he and Derek were. He didn’t need people to tell him that he and Derek were perfect for each other; he already knew that, thanks.

“There’s going to be a reception,” she said snippily, placing her hands on her hips. “You wouldn’t let me hire a videographer or a photographer, so I want a reception.”

“We didn’t let you hire one because Danny is recording it,” Stiles said, gesturing toward Danny who was setting up his camera.

“You need a photographer too.”

“That’s why you guys have iPhones,” Stiles said. “Erica is a picture-taking fiend. Ever since the twins were born, she’s been taking pictures of everything.”

“What about a musician?”

“We don’t need music.”

“Or at least let me color coordinate something.”

“Lydia.”

It was Derek who said that, placing his hands on Lydia’s shoulders and looking down at her. “Lydia, it’s our wedding, okay? Just let us do it our way. You’ve already furnished our entire house or did you forget that?”

Lydia opened her mouth to talk before closing it and folding her arms across her chest. “Fine. The reception I had planned was really nice too. Very low-key.”

“Nothing you do is low-key,” Stiles said.

“Well this was,” she said. “It’s was just going to be all of us hanging out in the Park and we would talk about how great you two are and eat those disgusting hotdogs from street venders and then we would all just stay here until it got dark. But I guess not. You two can just go to your fancy room at the Plaza when you’re done and then do it like bunnies until it’s nighttime.”

She was guilt tripping them. It was so obvious that that was what she was doing, but Stiles couldn’t bring himself to care, because that reception actually sounded nice. And all it took was one look at Derek to see that he was thinking the same thing.

“Lydia,” Derek said finally. “That sounds really nice and it was very thoughtful of you to think of that, thank you.”

“So, yes to the reception?” she asked.

“Yes,” Stiles sighed.

“Perfect,” she said, grinning at both of them and clasping her hands together. “So, what are you two waiting for? Go get married!”

Apparently all Lydia wanted from them was their “okay” to a reception since she was now pushing them toward the front of the group where the officiator was standing, looking at his watch.

“Okay, groom and groom here,” Stiles said.

The officiator looked up at them and nodded. “Let’s get this over with. I’m on my lunch break.”

Well, that was a bit of a mood breaker.

“Two witnesses?” the officiator asked, looking at the group.

Scott and Laura stepped forward, Laura standing next to Derek and Scott nudging Stiles in the side.

“All right,” the officiator said, flipping through a little booklet. “So, just the basic run-through? Vows and rings and then signing? Nothing special?”

“Uh, yeah, just the basics,” Derek said, looking at Lydia who was shrugging at them.

Of course she would get back at them by not letting her color coordinate by hiring the least caring officiator in the world. Stiles couldn’t bring himself to care though, because he was getting married to Derek and his dad looked like he was about to cry and Melissa was already crying and even Isaac was getting teary-eyed. Seriously?

His attention was soon brought back to the officiator who was rambling on about sickness and health and how Stiles needed to repeat after him. So, he did and so did Derek and it was all very short and clipped. The vows were standard because neither of them wanted to have a long-winded speech about how in love they were, because no one wanted to hear them go on and on.

Besides, Stiles had every intention of telling Derek how much he loved him that night. And he was kind of embarrassed about saying a few of the things that he wanted to say in front of his friends and family. So, it was just some simple “I do”s and they moved on.

The officiator asked for the rings next and Laura and Scott presented them. Laura doing it effortlessly and Scott almost dropping his before grabbing Stiles’ hand and shoving Derek’s ring into his palm.

“Thanks, buddy,” Stiles said, closing his hand around it.

“Don’t mention it,” Scott said, giving him the thumbs up.

Maybe that was revenge for Stiles dropping Allison’s ring at Scott’s wedding. Yeah, it probably was.

“May this ring be blessed so he who gives it and he who wears it may abide in peace, and continue in love until life's end,” the officiator read from his booklet, gesturing toward the ring Derek had in his hand.

Apparently that was the sign for Derek to take Stiles’ left hand and to slide the ring onto his finger. Picking out the rings was the one thing that they didn’t let Lydia interfere with. It just felt sacred and Stiles didn’t want the one piece of jewelry that he was never going to take off to be picked out by Lydia and not Derek.

The officiator cleared his throat and showed the booklet to Derek, pointing at a line. Derek skimmed it before nodding and slipping the ring off of Stiles’ finger again. So much for never taking it off.

“With this ring I thee wed,” Derek said, putting the ring on Stiles’ finger again and, okay, this was better. “Wear it as a symbol of our love and commitment.”

Stiles did the same with Derek’s ring, making sure that he said the line as he slipped it onto Derek’s finger. “With this ring I thee wed. Wear it as a symbol of our love and commitment.”

“By the power vested in me from the state of New York, I now pronounce you husband and husband,” the officiator said, closing his booklet. “You may now kiss the groom… it doesn’t matter who kisses who, just kiss.”

Of course Derek was the one to grab Stiles and kiss him. Not that Stiles minded, he actually would have been surprised if Derek had let him take the initiative. After a much too short kiss the officiator clapped them both on the back. “Ladies and Gentlemen, I present the loving couple, Mr. …uh.”

“Stilinski.” “McHale.”

“Stilinski-McHale?” the officiator asked, scrunching up his nose.

“Uh, no, we’re keeping our last names,” Derek explained.

“I don’t blame you,” the officiator nodded. “Ladies and Gentlemen, I present the loving couple, Mr. Stilinski and Mr. McHale.”

There was clapping and crying (mostly from Melissa who grabbed Derek as soon as she got the chance) and congratulations. After quickly signing the registry, the officiator was on his way and Lydia was getting blankets out of bags. The makeshift reception was starting and after Lydia had spread out the first blanket on the ground, she pointed at Stiles and Derek and then at the blanket. They both sat, neither wanting to go against Lydia.

“How long do we have to stay?” Stiles asked, leaning back on the blanket.

“Thirty minutes,” Derek said.

Stiles nodded, threading his fingers together with Derek’s and watching Lydia bossing everyone around. Melissa and his dad were on one blanket, both of them looking at them with happiness and pride. Stiles smiled and waved and they both just nodded. Danny and Isaac were on another blanket, Isaac wrapped up in Danny’s arms as they looked at Danny’s camera, probably going through the playback. Boyd and Erica and their six month-old twin girls, Lizzie and Megan, were on another blanket. Scott and Allison with David and Jeremy, who was almost three months-old, were joining Melissa and his dad, Melissa taking Jeremy into her arms as soon as he was in reach.

Chris and Laura were lounging on another blanket, talking with Jackson who was holding his and Lydia’s daughter, Clara, who had her first birthday in September. There was one person missing from the group though and Stiles looked around in search of her when she found him instead.

“Congratulations!” Amelia cried, racing toward him before flinging her arms around him and making him fall onto his back.

Stiles managed to let out a startled laugh as he placed a hand on Amelia’s back. Derek chuckled, dropping down to his elbow to look at them.

“You two are married and you’re going to be together forever, right?” she asked, placing her hands on Stiles’ chest to push herself up before looking at Derek. “You’re going to be with Uncle Stiles forever and make sure that he’s happy every day, right?”

“Of course,” Derek said, leaning over to press a kiss to her cheek. “I promise.”

“Good,” she nodded. “Auntie Lydia said something about getting food, I’m gonna go.”

And just as quickly as she had come, she was off again, running toward Lydia who scooped her up in her arms. Stiles sighed, turning his head to look up at Derek.

“Are you ready to have one?” Derek asked.

“Yeah,” Stiles said, smiling. “I really am.”

They had discussed it a couple weeks ago and had decided on a surrogate. Adoption had been their main choice for a while, but Derek had talked Stiles into surrogacy, mentioning how Scott and Allison were popping out plenty of McHales, but there needed to be more Stilinskis to go around. As soon as they got back home they were set to interview surrogates and donors and fill out all of that paperwork. But that wasn’t until next Thursday, giving them a week in New York to just enjoy being married.

“Me too,” Derek said, leaning down to kiss Stiles.

Soon Lydia had given everyone food, gotten a street guitarist to play for them, and had started about ten different toasts. Scott had talked for about five minutes about Stiles not being able to shut up about Derek for the majority of their friendship. Stiles had just glared at him while Derek laughed, shaking his head and telling Stiles that he thought it was cute. Laura had turned the tables though by sharing how frustrated Derek had been by liking Stiles at first. Stiles called Derek cute and he just glared at him, clearly not seeing anything cute about it.

His dad made a toast eventually, congratulating them both and then going on to say how happy he was of the man Stiles had become. Stiles might have gotten a little watery-eyed at that, giving his dad a hug once he had finished speaking. Melissa gave an equally nice speech after that, hugging Derek afterward and mumbling things to him that Stiles couldn’t quite hear.

They ended up staying longer than thirty minutes. They stayed until it was dark outside and all of the kids were falling asleep. All of them were catching flights back to Beacon Hills tomorrow and Stiles knew that the little ones would need to sleep. He was a Kindergarten teacher after all, he knew how important naptime was.

The group walked together out of the park, all of them fitting into as few as taxis as possible since they were all staying at the same commercial hotel. Derek and Stiles stayed until Laura, Chris, and a sleeping Amelia stowed away into the last taxi. Chris shook their hands and offered his congratulations (which was a pretty big breakthrough) while Laura hugged Stiles before squeezing the life out of Derek and noisily kissing him all over his face.

“Wanna walk to the hotel?” Derek asked. “It’s pretty close.”

“Sure,” Stiles shrugged, taking Derek’s hand in his as they started to walk in the direction of the Plaza. “So, Lydia already said that she checked us in, but do you have any idea what the room’s like?”

“No idea,” Derek shrugged. “But it’s the Plaza. There’s not a bad room in there.”

That was true. Stiles had only seen the lobby, but he already knew that he was going to feel ridiculously out of place there. Everything was fancy and expensive and Derek had practically drooled all over himself looking at the architecture. Stiles had drooled all over one of the couches in the lobby because he has just gotten off of a flight and it was a comfy couch.

The walk was pretty short and they didn’t talk much, both just taking in the fact that they were there and married and happy and that everything in their life was perfect. Once they reached the front desk Derek gave the receptionist Lydia’s name and she instantly smiled at them.

“You two must be the happy couple!” she said, clapping her hands together. “Congratulations and I’ll be happy to show you to where you’ll be staying until next Thursday morning.”

“Okay,” Stiles said slowly, looking at Derek.

The Plaza was a huge hotel; it was pretty weird that an employee knew who they were from their friend’s name. Then again Lydia was capable of making a lasting impression.

The receptionist guided them to the elevator, pressing the button for the top floor and smiling at both of them. They reached the top in no time and once she put the key in the door of their room Stiles knew it had to be a mistake.

“Uh, Miss, I feel like there’s been a mis-,” Stiles started.

“Mrs. Whittemore mentioned that you might say that,” she said, opening the door and handing Stiles the key and Derek a spare one. “There’s been no mistake, there’s a note for you two in the Oval Foyer. Oh, and the Master Bedroom is on the left with all of your things. Enjoy your stay!”

Then she was heading back to the elevator. Stiles slowly turned to Derek who was looking equally dumbfounded.

“Derek, this is the Royal Plaza Suite.”

“I know.”

“I looked it up. It’s $30,000 a night.”

“I know.”

They entered the room, closing the door behind them and heading into the Oval Foyer. There was a small table to the side and on top of it was a note just like the receptionist had said.

_The room has been paid for from now until next Thursday and if you order anything, it’ll be put on my tab._

_Congratulations,  
Peter Hale_

“Laura’s uncle is awesome,” Stiles said.

“He’s insane,” Derek corrected.

“But also awesome.”

He could tell by the look on Derek’s face that he was having a hard time not agreeing. Derek looked at him and just shook his head, placing the note back down on the table. And then they were just looking at each other in the nicest hotel room in the history of hotel rooms on their wedding night.

Yeah, they were wearing way too many clothes.

He didn’t know who moved first, he just knew that Derek had him pressed against a wall with a knee between his legs and his tongue fucking into his mouth and his hands on his ass and _fuck, he could get used to this._

“You have no idea,” Derek said, moving his mouth across Stiles’ jaw. “How hard it was not to just take you in front of everyone today.”

“ _God, Derek_ ,” Stiles gasped, fisting Derek’s hair and pulling him even closer.

“You look so fucking amazing in this suit and you looked so happy and content and gorgeous,” Derek continued, grabbing the knot of Stiles’ tie and yanking it loose. “I wanted to just press you against that stupid blanket and just take you.”

“Well, why don’t you press me against the huge bed that’s in the Master Bedroom and take me there?” Stiles proposed, prying away from Derek and moving into the hallway.

Derek was right behind him, hands on his waist and nuzzling into the crook of his neck. The suite was huge and Stiles didn’t even know where the bedroom was, much less care to focus with Derek pressed up against him.

“Der, we’re not even going to make it if you don’t let up,” Stiles said, turning around despite himself and letting Derek kiss him and push his suit jacket from his shoulders.

“Just keep heading down the hall,” Derek said, suckling under Stiles’ ear now as his hands gripped his waist.

Easier said than done. He was tempted to just give up and have sex in the hallway, but this was their first time as a married couple and it didn’t have to be special, but a bed would be nice.

As Derek kept himself occupied by slowly stripping Stiles and marking up his neck (something that he loved doing as soon as school was let out for the summer), Stiles slowly made his way down the long hallway. He looked into every room in search of a bed and was about to give up when he finally came across one.

He steered Derek into the room, pleased to see their suitcases neatly placed to the side, and then fell backward onto the huge bed. Stiles didn’t even want to focus on the room or look around or anything. All he wanted was to be naked and to have Derek inside of him as soon as possible.

It seemed that Derek had the same idea as well, pushing Stiles toward the top of the bed so that the back of his head hit the tall pile of pillows. Stiles kicked off his shoes and tugged off his socks while Derek did the same, he was working on his belt when Derek placed a hand on top of his and shook his head.

“What?” Stiles asked.

“I just-,” Derek said, kneeling in front of him on the bed. “I just… want to say something.”

“Now?” Stiles asked. “Ten seconds ago you were ready to bend me over in the hallway.”

“Genim, please.”

And oh… shit. This was serious. Derek rarely said Stiles’ real name. The first and last time he had said it (other than repeating it after Stiles had finally told him what his name was) was after he had proposed, right when he had pushed inside of Stiles and kissed him hot and slow and perfect.

“Okay,” Stiles said, leaning back and nodding. “Anything you need to say, go ahead.”

Derek nodded, moving forward and pressing himself on top of Stiles, right between his spread legs. He opened and closed his mouth a few times, probably trying to think of how to start what he wanted to say. Stiles waited, running one of his hands down Derek’s still clothed back while the other laced their fingers together.

“I never thought that I could have this,” Derek said. “I never thought that I could have you. You were this kid, Stiles. You were my little brother’s best friend and you were a kid. And I know that I let you down. I let you down a lot throughout those first few years and the years you were in high school. But, I wanted you. I wanted you and tried for so long to convince myself that I didn’t. And I feel like only now do I realize that I didn’t want to want you because you were my little brother’s best friend or so much younger than me.

“I didn’t think that I deserved you,” he continued. “And I still don’t think that I completely do. But you scared me. You scared the shit out of me not because you were so young but because you were so sure of what you wanted. You wanted me and I couldn’t understand how… how…”

He trailed off then, thinking. Maybe he was thinking of the right thing to say or trying to just make Stiles forget that he hadn’t said anything at all. But he wanted to tell Derek how much he loved him and how much Derek deserved the love that Stiles had for him. Because it was ridiculous how much Stiles loved him.

“I couldn’t understand how the one person in the world most deserving of love loved someone who wasn’t capable of giving it back,” Derek said. “That’s what I always thought, but you showed me how. Stiles, I love you and I know that you hate it when I say this, but just let me make love to you. Take it slow. No rushing. Just you and me.”

Stiles didn’t even know what to say to that. Should he nod? Should he tell Derek how much he loved him too? He had no idea, but he knew that his silence was probably a bad thing.

“Okay,” Stiles heard himself say. “Yeah, just, fuck, just make love to me.”

Derek leaned forward, kissing Stiles so slowly he thought he was going to lose his mind. And then Derek’s hands were everywhere, unbuckling his belt and unbuttoning his pants and pulling them down along with his boxers. Derek’s hands were running all over his body and his mouth was attached to his and then he was gone. Derek’s warm weight was missing and Stiles blinked hazily, watching as Derek opened up his suitcase and got out a bottle of lube, dropping it on the bed next to Stiles.

Stiles started to unbutton his shirt when Derek started to take the rest of his clothes off. The white dress shirt had just slipped off of his shoulders, pooling around his elbows when he looked up. And he seriously felt like pinching himself, because Derek was perfect. Completely nude and completely unashamed and looking at Stiles like he was the only thing in the world that made sense.

“God, you’re beautiful,” Derek muttered and Stiles realized how he probably looked. His neck was probably red from stubble burn and marks from Derek’s teeth and his legs were spread and his shirt was half-on and he was starting to feel embarrassed which was ridiculous because this was Derek and Derek had seen him naked so many-. “Stop thinking.”

He looked up at Derek who was back between his legs again, pressing kisses down his neck and then across his chest. Stiles ran a hand through Derek’s hair and let out a low moan when Derek latched onto one of his nipples, hands running up and down Stiles’ sides.

“Derek,” Stiles breathed, cupping the back of Derek’s head and keeping him there.

Derek’s hands moved to his thighs, moving Stiles farther up the bed so that he was reclining against the huge pile of pillows rather than lying down. His head felt like it was spinning though, Derek was nibbling at his nipple now, sucking it, and rubbing the other one with his thumb, and God he wanted to return the favor. Derek always took care of him in bed, he never denied Stiles wanting to do something for him, but it was hard to want to do anything but let Derek touch him.

And wanting to do something back for Derek was quickly leaving his mind as Derek pressed kisses down his chest and stomach before nuzzling the dark curls around his cock. Hands were on Stiles’ hips and green eyes met his before Derek took him into his mouth, warm and wet and perfect. He let out a low moan, fighting between wanting to watch and wanting to lean his head back and close his eyes.

He watched as long as he could, watching as Derek took all of him in his mouth before hollowing his cheeks and sucking and- _fuck_ , he couldn’t do this. Stiles’ head fell back on the pile of pillows and he groaned, loving the way Derek’s tongue ran across his head and on the vein and the way Derek sometimes filled his mouth with spit and suckled, leaving Stiles panting and grabbing at Derek’s hair. Just when he thought that Derek would let him fuck into his mouth, he let go and his mouth traveled further down.

There were a few laps to his balls that had him practically reeling when Derek lifted his hips and-.

“ _Oh, God yes_ ,” Stiles moaned, heels digging into the bed as Derek ran his tongue over his hole. “Fuck, Derek, I can’t even- _oh-oh-oh_.”

That stupid tongue was going to be the absolute death of him. Death by Rimming. It was going to be a thing as soon as Stiles died from it. Because Derek knew what it did to him, knew how it made him whimper and writhe in the most embarrassing ways. But he couldn’t deny that he fucking loved it.

Derek’s tongue was just massaging over his hole now, not even pressing inside in the slightest. Then Derek reached down, pulling his cheeks apart and even then _just_ lapping inside. Stiles groaned, pressing himself closer to Derek’s tongue, trying to get more inside of him. He was seriously beginning to think that Derek was going to deny him when his tongue darted inside and- _fuck_ , it sounded like Stiles had just _whined_.

He couldn’t help it though and didn’t even want to, because Derek was fucking him with his tongue and it was wet and fluid and pressing against him in the best ways, but God, he needed more.

“Derek,” he panted, surprised that he could still pronounce his name properly. “Fuck, Derek, just… just do it already.”

Derek pulled away from him at that, looking up at Stiles and who gave him the right to look like that? He had just blown Stiles and then tongue-fucked him and he still looked like he was the one in charge, the dominant one.

“Do what?” Derek asked, smirking and _there was his Derek_.

“Seriously?” Stiles said. “After all these years and you’re still doing that, Derek you know what I want.”

“Do I?” Derek questioned, raising an eyebrow. “You’re going to have to tell me, Stiles.”

He always hated this game. Derek always knew what he wanted or what he really meant, but he always just wanted to hear him say it.

“You know,” Stiles repeated.

“Oh? You mean this?” Derek asked, ducking back down and pressing his tongue against him again.

“No,” Stiles ground out, trying not to melt into a puddle all over again.

“Then what?”

“Fuck me.”

“You know that I don’t want to do that, Stiles,” Derek said, moving up to kneel between his legs and grab the bottle of lube.

“Don’t make me say it again,” Stiles groaned, watching as Derek poured lube onto his fingers.

“You don’t have to,” Derek shrugged, reaching down to press one slick fingertip against his hole. “You don’t have to say anything.”

And then Derek was kissing his neck and rubbing that finger against his hole and he was being so tender and light and perfect and-.

“Fine,” Stiles said. “Fine, make love to me. Derek, _please_ -.”

Derek slipped the finger inside and instantly pressed it against that one spot inside of Stiles. He let out a low groan, grabbing Derek’s bicep and looking up at him hazily. Derek slipped another finger in easily enough, eyes flickering from Stiles’ face to where he was taking Derek.

“So good,” Derek mumbled, already pressing a third inside of him. “You always take it so good, Stiles.”

Stiles just nodded, bringing Derek closer to press their foreheads together. The stretch was fantastic, but he knew that it’d be even better with Derek inside of him. He had no idea when he had started loving this so much, it had probably been since the first time they had had sex all of those years ago.

“Derek,” Stiles panted as Derek started to pump four fingers in and out of him. “Please, just-.”

“I’ve got you,” Derek said, slipping his fingers out of him and finally, _finally_ slicking up his cock. “Shh. I’ve got you.”

And of course he did. There were just a few seconds of emptiness before Derek was pushing into him, pressing kisses in his hair and on his temple and across his jaw and whispering compliments into his ear. God, Stiles had no idea why Derek thought he wasn’t good enough sometimes. Because Derek was the best, Derek took care of him in ways he couldn’t even describe. He was lucky to have Derek, so ridiculously lucky to have this man who looked at him like he was the reason the Earth rotated the Sun.

He held onto Derek’s back as he thrust into him, the stupid dress shirt now damp with sweat and still trapped around his elbows. But fuck if he cared, because Derek was inside of him, filling him up and hitting that spot so often his legs started to shake. And now he got it. After all this time he knew why Derek liked calling it “making love” and not “fucking”. Because there was no way Stiles would ever call something like this something crude like “fucking”.

This was intimate and perfect and filled with so many emotions that he didn’t know what to do except to hold on. He felt his release creeping up on him, a friendly reminder at the warming of his spine and the tightening of his balls. But instead of telling Derek to touch him like he always did, he just pushed it to the furthest corner of his mind. He just wanted to keep this as long as he could, to keep Derek thrusting into him and keeping him right on the edge until he would inevitably fall over.

And fall over he did. It completely blindsided him, but he came, clutching Derek’s back and gasping his name, completely untouched.

“ _Stiles_ ,” Derek groaned, thrusting his hips once, twice, thrice before coming inside of Stiles.

Stiles fell back against the bed again, chest heaving and reaching a hand up to bring Derek down with him. The kiss was greedy and heady and it made Stiles even more light-headed than before.

“I love you,” Stiles panted once they had finally parted, rubbing a hand down Derek’s sweat-slicked chest.

“And I love you,” Derek said, smiling at him.

He pressed his lips against Stiles’ once more before slipping out of him. Stiles let out a low moan, tilting his head back and releasing a shaky breath. Derek laid down next to him, wrapping an arm under Stiles’ shoulders and bringing him to his chest.

Stiles outstretched a hand over Derek’s stomach, way too spent to do anything else when he saw Derek just looking at him in that careful and awestruck way that he had seen him look so many times.

“Take a picture it’ll last longer, hubby,” Stiles said.

Derek looked at him, amusement clear in his eyes. “Why would I need to take a picture when I’m going to be able to see you looking like this for the rest of our lives?”

As always, Stiles didn’t have a good answer to that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!


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